


Most of All

by TheBrightestNight



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 22:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5644399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrightestNight/pseuds/TheBrightestNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.” Lilo & Stitch (2002)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Most of All

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sure this has been done a billion times already and I’m probably a little late in the running, but here I am with a Sally/Percy reunion, with some Paul, because I felt he’s a part of their family, their lives, he needs to be in this too.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

_“Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.” Lilo & Stitch (2002)_

            I stared up at the apartment building looming before me, gripping the strap of my backpack.

            Daunting.

            I’d faced so much in my short, demigod life: tons of monsters, each more dangerous and deadly than the next. Angry gods and goddesses. I’d been through two wars and slogged through hell itself.

            But standing in front of this building had to be one of the scariest, heart-pounding thing I’d ever done.

            Was I scared? I wasn’t quite sure. My shaking hands and speeding heart rate might have been a clue, but I didn’t feel afraid.

            Nervous? Hades, yes. Nervous beyond words. Not of what my mom would think, but of how she would react. She knew my life was dangerous. She knew I could disappear for weeks on end and not hear from me. But this time was different. What happened and everything surrounding it was completely and totally different. I didn’t know _how_ she’d react.

            Someone squeezed my hand and I was pulled from my thoughts, reminded that Annabeth was standing next to me, that no matter what, I wasn’t and never would be alone.

            I looked down at our entwined hands before lifting my gaze to meet hers. Her grey eyes were stormy, sad, with a pained smile to match. She squeezed my hand again.

            “Do you want me to go up with you?” she asked softly.

            I managed my own, small smile and turned to face her, reaching up to brush some hair from her face, behind her ear.

            “No,” I managed in a thick voice. “I…” I trailed off, taking a deep breath and looked up at the building again. Annabeth took my other hand in hers. “I should do this alone.” I looked back at her with my mouth open, intending to say more. I _wanted_ to say more, to explain my reasoning, but my brain was having trouble finding the right words. They were just a big mess, lying on the floor—so to speak. Sorting through them for the right ones, let alone putting them together to make a complete sentence seemed impossible right now.

            Annabeth smiled more genuinely, freeing one of her hands from mine to reach up and close my open mouth. “Close your mouth, Seaweed Brain, or you’ll catch flies.”

            I smiled and a small laugh made its way out as I took her hand back into mine, stepping closer to her.

            “I love you,” I told her.

            “I know,” she responded, throwing her arms around my neck, pulling me ever closer. “I love you, too.”

            “I’ll message you as soon as I can. Knowing my mom, she’ll want you over as soon as possible.”

            “You’d better, or I’ll be kicking down your door.”

            I smiled and put my arms around her waist, pulling her flush against me. “I would expect nothing less.” I met her intense gaze (that always managed to take my breath away) before leaning in for a kiss. And for a moment, my nerves disappeared.

            “Get a room, you two!” a man shouted from behind me. Annabeth and I pulled away, but we kept our arms around each other, exchanging a glance before looking over at the man, who was approaching the apartment building.

            I looked back at Annabeth. She smiled and nodded toward the man as he was telling his friend over the intercom to let him up.

            “There’s your chance,” she said, pulling back. I quickly caught her hands with mine, not letting her get too far. “Say hit to your mom and Paul for me, okay?”

            I nodded, my pulse quickening, the nerves returning full force. “Of course.”

            The door buzzed. I turned to see the man pull it open and dart inside. I faced Annabeth again, stealing another quick kiss.

            “Okay, go, Seaweed Brain!” She laughed, pulling away. I flashed her a grin before starting to step away, our hands lingering, stretching out as far as possible as I backed away from her.

            With one last encouraging smile, our contact broke and I spun around, sprinting to the door. I just barely managed to grab it before it closed.

            I held it open and turned back to Annabeth one more time. She smiled and waved. I returned both gestures before ducking inside.

            I hadn’t wanted to have my mom buzz me up. I didn’t want to do that to her—coming back after ten months, telling her it’s me over an intercom—it seemed cruel.

            Taking deep breaths, my hands shaking—something I wasn’t sure was happening because of nerves or because of my time in Tartarus—I made my way up the stairs, occasionally wiping the sweat off them. My body felt heavier with every step I took, an intense pain filling through my body. Having been through enough battles, I knew this feeling all too well: dread.

            Not because I didn’t want to see my mom. Gods, did I want to see her again. No, it was something else, a reason I just couldn’t pinpoint.

            Before I knew it, I was standing in front of my mom’s door. I was almost regretting not having Annabeth come with me, because I found myself unable to knock. She would’ve given me the strength I so desperately needed right now.

            With one more deep breath, I lifted my fist intending to knock, but instead held it aloft, an inch away from the wood. My heart was beating in my throat and blood was roaring in my ears.

            Then I thought of my mom, her warm eyes and sweet smile. Her telling me that it was okay for me to make mistakes, telling me about my father with such a loving, wistful look in her eyes. The blue food, the trips to Montauk.

            Holding my breath, I forced my fist forward.

            I flinched at the sound, but managed it two more times before my hand dropped limply to my side of its own accord. I waited, trying to listen for sounds behind the door past the sound of my beating heart.

            Voices, someone yelling. Then more silence. Finally, footsteps.

            I felt my heart beat ramp up even more, and for a moment I was afraid I was going to die from a heart attack. The pain in my chest was so intense, it was unbearable. For a scary moment I thought I’d been poisoned again.

            Before I could die from a heart attack or my imagined poisoning, however, the door knob turned and the door swung open. I came face-to-face with my stepdad, Paul. He looked the same as I last remembered, still movie-actor-like, but instead of thirty-something, he looked forty-something. There were also lines on his face that hadn’t been there before—worry, I would realize later, they were worry lines.

            My eyes flickered down to his hand still holding the doorknob in time to see his knuckles go white. My eyes instantly flew back up to my stepdad’s face, to gauge his emotions, detect any threats. (I would feel bad about this later, but after Tartarus, detecting threats in those around me would be something I would do automatically, something I couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard I tried.)

            I watched as first anger, then pain, followed by relief, and finally settling on happiness flashed across his face. His eyes swirled with all four of those emotions.

            “Sally!” he called, inclining his head back toward the hall, but not taking his eyes off of me. “You need to come see this.”

            I tensed and held my breath, waiting for my mom to come into view. An intense ball of pain started forming in my chest, and I was shocked by its sudden appearance and magnitude. I couldn’t understand what it was or why it was there, but it was making it had to breathe.

            Footsteps echoed through the apartment, down the hall, hitting me like a ton of bricks. Paul opened the door as wide as it would go and stood against the wall. Then, there she was, standing at the end of the hall. She was drying her hands as she turned the corner, but froze when she saw me, the towel falling to the floor.

            They say that your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but that wasn’t true. As I stood there, on the threshold to a place I hadn’t called home for ten months—nearly a _whole year_ ; this information struck me like lightning now that I really thought about it—and met my mother’s blue eyes that sparkled and changed in the light, my whole life with her flashed before me.

            The first time she took me the aquarium and I sat in front of one of the tanks, chatting with the fishes for what felt like hours. Damn near throwing a tantrum when it was time to go.

            The first time she took me to the store and we bought my first fish, her lecturing me about responsibility of feeding it and cleaning its bowl regularly all the way there. It had been a gorgeous blue beta fish. I’d named her Bubbles. I would talk to her for hours and hours on end when I’d given up on trying to do homework because the numbers and letters started to float off the page.

            All the times we had to visit a pet store to buy more food for Bubbles, and I’d wander over to the tanks of fish and chat with them while she got the food.

            Then, when Bubbles died, the funeral we’d held for her. My mom comforting me. Maybe I’d been overacting at the time, but we’d had some good talks. Bubbles had been a good, stable friend to me. Especially because I had a hard enough time making friends who were people, what with being labeled as a trouble-maker, and having ADHD and dyslexia.

            The day I was old enough to realize that that sorry excuse for a person, Gabe Ugliano was, to the state of New York of the federal government, my step-dad. I was so upset and _angry_. I couldn’t understand how someone as lovely as my mom had ended up with Smelly Gabe. That was the first time she’d told me Gabe was helping us in ways that I didn’t realize, which didn’t help my anger and resentment.

            The first time I can remember going to Montauk beach. It wasn’t just getting away from Gabe for a whole two days. It was how refreshing the sea air was. How empowered I felt being so near the ocean. Remembering the warm smile of my true father whenever I was there—the memory was always stronger and vivid whenever we visited the beach.

            My first day of school, being absolutely terrified. My mom comforting me, encouraging me, even though she had to be more terrified than I was for reasons that I wouldn’t find out about until I turned twelve.

            The first time she’d dyed our food blue.

            The first time I was expelled from a school, and her telling me it wasn’t my fault and that I had nothing to feel bad about. Once again comforting and encouraging me.

            How confused and scared I was when Grover, my mom, and I were running from the Minotaur. The pain and rage I felt when I thought she’d died, my vision tinged red as I fought and killed the beast. The hope that filled me, relieving a terrible weight from my chest when I’d found out she was still alive and I could save her. The despair of having to leave her behind in the Underworld to do what was right. The murderous animosity that filled every pore of my body when I realized Gabe hit her. The hopelessness I felt when I realized I couldn’t protect her like I wanted to, and the hopefulness that replaced the hopeless feeling when I realized she could take care of herself just fine.

            That next year, how proud she was of me that I’d almost made it through a whole year of school without getting expelled. The blue waffles and eggs she’d made that morning. How excited I was about going to that skateboard shop. The mortifying drive over to my school because she just had to bring up that “date” Annabeth and I had planned. The utter disappointment that on my last day of school, of all days, I set the building on fire. So much for making it through a whole year. Her, once again, comforting me despite this.

            That winter, when she was kind enough to drive Annabeth, Thalia, and I to Westover Hall. Yet another mortifying car trip with her telling both of them about me when I a baby. How quickly I left, not realizing I wouldn’t be returning home for a while. Something I would always feel guilty about, even to this day. Then, later finding out about her and Paul, not knowing how exactly I felt about it. Finally coming to terms with the fact that Poseidon was a god, and while she may still love him, she also had a right to move on. Figuring out what was most important and that was her happiness.

            That next summer, her driving me to orientation at Goode, where Paul taught. This time the car ride hadn’t been so bad. She’d told me that one of the reasons Poseidon had fallen for her was because of the fact she could see through the Mist. I remember how horrible I felt that I might’ve just ruined her and Paul’s relationship because of what happened in the band room, starting a fire and whatnot. That awkward moment at our small dining table, when Annabeth and I needed to use the phone to call Rachel. Of course, she’d notice that there was tension between me and Annabeth. Yet another awkward moment when none other than my dad decides to show up for my fifteenth birthday celebration. I might’ve laughed at how red she’d gotten had I not been so shocked Poseidon had shown up at all.

            Finding out that Paul had proposed was equal parts terrifying and exciting. I didn’t know that I was still completely over the fact that my mom was moving on, but after having to raise me by herself and then being married to Smelly Gabe, she deserved someone like Paul. Again, as long as she was happy, I was happy. She’d put her happiness aside to keep me safe, it was finally her turn. Her smile at the wedding was enough to tell me that this was the right decision, for her and me, but most importantly her.

            Finally, that last summer, when everything finally gave and the war began. Seeing how hard it was for her give me her blessing so I could go do something that might get me killed, after letting me go on dangerous missions and quest, not hearing from me for days, sometimes weeks for four years. And if it didn’t die, I’d still have to fight a titan in order to save the world. Despite this, she’d given me her blessing, and that’s when I realized just how brave and strong she was. Seeing her and Paul asleep, completely helpless, sitting ducks, had nearly undone me. Only, then, to find out Paul could handle a sword and my mom could handle a shotgun had been a shock to the system.

            Everything seemed to finally be calming down after the Titan War. I was still at Goode, and going to spend Winter Break at camp with my awesome girlfriend, celebrate Christmas and New Years with my mom, step-dad, and Tyson. Then Her Royal Pain in the Neck, Queen of All Things Annoying had to go pluck me from my life, as if it wouldn’t have any serious, lasting consequences to both me and those around me.

            I couldn’t even being to imagine how she’d taken that message from me, the one I’d left when Frank, Hazel, and I had landed in Alaska. Thinking back on it now, I half regretted it because of the pain and worry it must have caused her and my step-dad. The other half of me told me it had been the right thing to do. After _eight months_ they deserved to know I was alive. I probably could’ve worded it better, though.

            All of that passed through my mind in less than a second. I blinked and was back in the apartment building, standing just outside my home. My mom stood at the other end of the hall, staring back at me. Had she seen what I’d seen with added memories, like me as a baby? Her and Poseidon?

            She, too, looked the same as I remembered, but also older with worry. Her hair had more grey streaks. A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, though, when she saw me. Tears flooded her eyes, causing my throat to close up and my chest tighten painfully. I wanted to say something, but words couldn’t possibly suffice for a situation such as this. I almost felt frozen in time unable to move, and trust me, I knew exactly how that felt.

            She started forward, breaking the spell, a watery smile breaking across her face, warming me to my core, momentarily taking away the coldness that Tartarus had put there, and bringing a burning sensation to my eyes. I started toward her, throwing my backpack down as I reached her and threw my arms around her. I would only realize the cause of the burn were my tears when we embraced and they spilled from my eyes and slid down my cheeks in a never-ending stream.

            Annabeth had told me of her trips over to my apartment, to visit my mom, update her on the search for me. She left nothing out, telling me how worried they’d been, how they would sometimes just cry because they were so concerned, so afraid something had happened to me. The pain in my chest increased and a fresh, new wave of tears spilled from my eyes.

            I held my mom even closer to me as my chest filled with that pain, which was both excruciating and incapacitating, but also relieving and freeing in a way. I had been gone for so long, caused so much misery and sorrow. But I was back, I’d finally come back.

            She smelled just as I remembered, though she no longer worked at a candy shop: chocolate and licorice, the aroma of candies and sweets. I held her even tighter to me, any words getting caught in my throat, and being turned into sobs that I could barely hold back. Just as well because there still really wasn’t anything to be said here. The mere fact that I was back in my mom’s arms was enough. I felt five again. (If only it were so easy. If only I could rid myself of those memories of Tartarus.)

            I hadn’t realized we’d sunken to the floor until Paul came over and knelt next to us. I managed to pull away from my mom for a moment to smile up at him through watery eyes. He smiled back, looking between me and my mom, his own eyes teary. He sat down on the floor with us, putting his arms around us, me and my mom putting one of our arms around him.

            There we sat, in the middle of the hall, crying happily—I was back, I was with my family again, I was in the arms of a step-dad who cared about, loved me, and accepted me for who I was, and a fantastic mom who loved me and who’d taken care of me in every way she could, sometimes sacrificing her own happiness for mine.

            And crying sadly—releasing all the pain that had built up from missing each other, not being able to see or talk to each other, all the pent up anger and frustration at being unable to do anything to find me, bring me back where I belonged, of me not being able to just _go_ back because my responsibility as a demigod was so much bigger than it all.

            Her eyes told me stories of trips to Montauk beach and blue food. Her hair told me of her late nights working on her book, doing homework and, though exhausted, the happiness it brought her. Her smile told me of her love for me, her need to protect, but also her bravery for letting me do what needed to be done even if it meant I might not make it back. Her scent told me of her kind and caring nature toward the world, her gentleness and sweetness toward people.

            Most of all, everything about her told me I was finally home.

_“Where we love is home—home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.” Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr._

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve hit a rough patch in my writing lately, so I hope the emotions came through.
> 
> Because I just recently returned from being abroad, I can kind of relate to this kind of reunion, and I thought I’d capitalize on this empathy. Granted, I wasn’t away for as long, I didn’t go through what Percy had, and I was able to talk to my mom every weekend, but the emotions are still there, they’re still the same. I simply amplified them and then added in some nostalgia to make it more emotional.
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> TheBrightestNight


End file.
